


Hopelessly

by Shi_Shi



Series: Hopelessly, Helplessly, Falling in Love [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26148310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Shi/pseuds/Shi_Shi
Summary: It all started with a dare.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Series: Hopelessly, Helplessly, Falling in Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898824
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted to the EntSTslash Yahoo Group in November 2011 and beta'd by the wonderful SueC; any mistakes are mine for messing with it all these years later. Fluff set in season 2. (I'm ignoring seasons 3 & 4). Thank you for reading!

  
It was all the captain’s fault. If Jon hadn’t been in one of his weird playful moods and made that dare, then Trip wouldn’t be in the trouble he was in now. But Jon had been and now Trip had no hope of recovering his previous state of blessed ignorance.

***

At the beginning of their ninth day, everyone agreed: the Elg were awfully nice people. 

Trip thought it’d been the best first contact they’d ever had. Even T’Pol seemed happy, or at least as happy as a Vulcan could be. The Elg were kind, welcoming, and had a terrific sense of humor. They were thoughtful and generous, and considering that the liaisons assigned to each crewmember were related to each other in some way, it was no wonder Trip felt as if they were being treated just like one of the family. 

They’d been given a large and comfortable three-bedroom suite for the duration of their stay and each evening the away team would return, exhausted but exhilarated from their respective excursions of the day. Trip had sat up with Jon on a few occasions, sipping the local beer and watching different sporting events on the big screen in the living room. The first night the rest of the away team had joined them, everyone still reeling slightly from the revelation that there was no crime or violence on the planet. The Elg possessed a strange type of empathy – which only worked if they tried to intentionally inflict pain upon someone, and then the aggressor would feel it tenfold and the victim not at all. As T’Pol pointed out, it was illogical to cause pain with such a profound side effect. 

After that they’d barely had time to talk to each other except to say good night before retiring for much needed sleep, although Malcolm had joined Trip and Jon one other time, that second night when Malcolm admitted that there wasn’t any demand for security on this mission and the captain really didn’t need him tagging along everywhere. But Jon denied Malcolm’s request to return to the ship and the next morning Jon spoke with the Ambassador and by the afternoon Malcolm was very busy. 

The Elg ambassador and his wife were an elegant pair with four school-aged children; the whole family was the Captain’s constant escorts. Two elderly yet surprisingly energetic women and their much younger husband were at T’Pol’s service, taking her all over the capital city, including their scientific and educational institutions. Trip had never seen T’Pol engaged in such robust conversation, the threesome easily T’Pol’s intellectual equals.

Hoshi’s liaisons were three barely out of their teens sisters, giggly and free spirited, showing Hoshi the nightlife and other entertainment the city had to offer. The four of them were soon rapidly speaking Elg between themselves, having the best of times. Hoshi was positively glowing and Trip was glad to see their linguist so carefree. He thought it suited her, especially the night the girls dressed her in the latest youth fashion for an evening of clubbing. 

Malcolm’s guide was a young widow with an adorable little daughter who was about three years old. Ashasak was fascinated with the alienness of the away team – Jon’s height, T’Pol’s ears, Hoshi’s eyes, and Trip’s nose. She loved Malcolm’s hair, her tiny fingers constantly threading through it, and insisted that he carry her wherever they went. She called him ‘Lewd’, her corruption of ‘Lieutenant Reed’, causing Hoshi and Jon to snicker every time. The fact that Ashasak’s mother was a pyrotechnic specialist in charge of an amusement park’s elaborate nightly fireworks display added one more layer to Hoshi’s and Jon’s teasing of Malcolm about his ‘new girlfriends’ but Trip was secretly charmed by their armory officer’s gentle interaction with the child. 

Trip’s companions were a middle-aged couple, married for years and it was apparent that they were still very much in love. The youngest of their children had just left home for a prestigious university and Trip decided that ‘empty nest syndrome’ was universal. They’d adopted Trip immediately and their laid back demeanor and enthusiastic attitudes, as well as the fact that both were engineers (Lamupar being retired and Iniros consulting on whatever projects caught his fancy), soon made Trip feel as if he had known both men all his life.

Their hosts insisted that they rest and relax prior to the banquet in their honor later this afternoon, so they were sitting around the table in the dining room of their spacious suite while Malcolm was off puttering in the kitchen. He’d already poked through the well-stocked pantry on their first day, using his scanner on the food items he’d found, double checking that they were safe for human and Vulcan consumption, and was in the process of doing...well, Trip wasn’t quite sure what Malcolm was doing because he, along with Jon, had been listening with interest to Hoshi and T’Pol talk about the Elg, specifically their marriage practices. A suitor had just proposed to all three of Hoshi’s liaisons and the away team had been out late last night, swept up in the joyous celebration.

“Almost sounds like Denobulans,” Trip commented, shifting uncomfortably as he remembered Phlox’s second wife, Feezal.  
  
“Not quite,” T’Pol retorted, rather archly in Trip’s opinion. “Although they often have more than one spouse, Elg units tend to be smaller, unlike the more sprawling and loosely based Denobulan relationships.”

“They’re more...circumspect,” Malcolm put in, startling Trip, who hadn’t heard him come up. Malcolm balanced a loaded tray expertly in one hand and proceeded to transfer its silverware, napkins, and plates to the table. “Quite a lot of consideration goes into their selection of spouses since they mate for life,” he continued, placing a cup in front of each of his crewmates. He put an Elg version of a teapot down on the table before moving back into the kitchen. 

“Phlox said that Denobulans often marry on a whim,” Hoshi said, picking up the teapot and began serving it all round. 

“That’s how he acquired his third wife,” Malcolm said dryly as he returned, placing two platters of food in the middle of the table. He sat down next to Trip.

“But they do love each other,” Hoshi clarified as she poured Malcolm a cup. 

“True,” Malcolm agreed, nodding his thanks to Hoshi. He took a sip and sighed contentedly.

“What is this, Lieutenant?” T’Pol asked, a fork poised over one of the platters.

Trip eyed the food with interest; it smelled delicious. He was suddenly very hungry and by the way Jon and Hoshi were filling their plates, it looked like they were hungry too. They hadn’t had breakfast this morning, everyone having slept in after the late night festivities and the banquet was at an odd time -- too late for lunch but too early for dinner. However, there was just enough on the platters to make a satisfying snack that wouldn’t ruin their appetites for later.

“I suppose one would consider them a sort of dolma. Just rice and veg tucked into the local equivalent of vine leaves,” Malcolm answered. “The other’s like a cinnamon twist, with an orange-honey dipping sauce if you feel like something even sweeter.” 

Jon was enthusiastically eating a dolma, while Hoshi had gone straight to dessert, dragging her thin, crisped puff pastry through the puddle of sauce she’d spooned onto her plate. She bit into it, her eyes closing as she moaned appreciatively. “Oh my god, that’s sinful,” she said.   
  
T’Pol placed a solitary dolma on her plate and cut it in half. She cut the half again and eyed the small piece suspiciously before placing it in her mouth. Her eyebrow shot up as she chewed. She swallowed. “Very good,” she said and immediately speared the larger half and put the whole thing into her mouth.

Trip stifled a chuckle and tried his own dolma; it _was_ good; a subtle mix of spices and flavors that were part of the exotic Elg cuisine and better than any of the dolmas he’d had before on Earth. 

“Funny how you can be lightyears from home, yet find almost the same things on every planet,” Jon said. “I should see if we can get a couple dozen jars of these for Chef.”

“And a couple of pallets of these,” Hoshi said, waving a pastry twist, not quite kidding. 

“As well as a few liters of this sauce,” T’Pol added thickly. The humans looked at her. She had the spoon she used to ladle the sauce onto her plate in her mouth, trying to get the last of the sweet concoction off it. She looked up, her eyebrows almost rising into her bangs as she took in her colleagues amused expressions. 

“Several liters,” Jon said, trying to keep a straight face. Trip laughed out loud and T’Pol gave them a haughty stare before concentrating on her food once more.

“The girls want to go shopping tomorrow, so if you’ll show me the packages I can find out what store everything came from and I’ll order a shipment to be sent to Chef,” Hoshi told Malcolm.

“I can show you the ingredients, but there aren’t any ‘packages’,” Malcolm said. “I made them.”

“From scratch?” Hoshi asked in disbelief.

“It wasn’t that difficult,” Malcolm demurred.

“I think I love you. You can use my hotplate anytime,” Hoshi exclaimed, only half teasing as she bit into another twist. 

“It’s really good,” Jon commented. “I’m surprised you just whipped this up, no problem. Chef better start watching his back.” That got a small smile out of Malcolm, who ducked his head, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and shy pleasure. Trip was fascinated to see a faint blush of color stain his cheeks at the praise.

“I am surprised as well,” T’Pol said as she selected another dolma. “I was led to believe that cooking wasn’t one of your nation's talents, Lieutenant.”

“Excuse me, Sub Commander?”

“I was told that, in Human theology, all the cooks in Heaven are French, but in Hell all the cooks are British,” she replied. “From that I ascertained that cooking is not a forte of the people from your homeland. Apparently Mr. Tucker was misinformed,” she concluded as she popped another piece of dolma into her mouth. 

Hoshi and Jon snickered as Malcolm glared at Trip in mock outrage. His right hand darted out and Trip cringed away. “It’s just an old joke!” Trip protested, arms up, trying to protect himself. But Malcolm merely snatched one of Trip’s pastries from his plate. “Philistine. Obviously you know nothing about English cuisine,” Malcolm sniffed as he leaned back, biting into Trip’s twist with a smug look.

“I’ve heard in Hell, Americans brew the beer,” Hoshi said, elbowing Malcolm in the ribs, getting a full smile out of him.

Trip settled back into place, frowning as he caught T’Pol’s glance. Her face was as impassive as usual but somehow he could swear she was amused. 

“And Vulcans are the comedians,” Trip muttered. 

Jon indulgently listened to the byplay of his crew while counting how many pastries were left. He quickly took two more, while the women were distracted. “You know, Malcolm, maybe you should enlighten us as to the wonders of British culinary art.”   
  
Trip took the opportunity to grab a couple more dolmas and another pastry while everyone’s attention was on Jon. 

“Sir?” Malcolm looked puzzled.

“Why don’t you make a meal for us? The kitchen’s obviously top of the line and you’ve proven you can improvise with Elg food – according to Phlox it’s not that different from what we’re used to.” 

“I don’t think--“ Malcolm began, looking alarmed.

“Come on, Malcolm,” Jon interrupted. He indicated to Trip with a nod of his head. “Teach that Philistine a thing or two. Put your money where your mouth is – I dare you,” Jon challenged with a grin.

“I would be interested in a meal as well, Lieutenant,” T’Pol said. “Although I’ve attended an English high tea once while in San Francisco, I don’t believe it was a thorough representation of your culture’s cuisine.” 

Her eyes wandered over to the middle of the table again, noticing the lone pastry left on the plate. She reached toward it with her fork but Hoshi beat her to it. “Sorry,” Hoshi said, not looking at all apologetic. T’Pol retaliated by taking the last of the dipping sauce and drowning the crumbs on her plate in it. She didn’t apologize.  
  
Malcolm was oblivious to the battle between the women. He was looking at Jon, sputtering excuses.

“Then it’s settled,” Jon said, ignoring Malcolm. “You can serve us brunch tomorrow. And make more of these.” Jon bit into his pastry twist with a satisfied crunch. 

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm sighed, resigned to his fate.

Trip popped another dolma in his mouth, smirking, anticipating a chance to watch Malcolm squirm. 

  
***

The rest of his crewmates were nowhere to be seen by the time Trip got back that night. He decided to go to bed early, worn out from the banquet and the play he’d attended afterwards with Lamupar and Iniros. 

The first night he and Jon had played Rock, Paper, Scissors for the private bedroom. It was a given that Hoshi and T’Pol would share a room and Malcolm said he didn’t care who he had to bunk with as long as they didn’t snore. Jon had won, smiting Trip’s scissors, and Malcolm had been Trip’s roommate since.

It suited Trip just fine; he and Malcolm had slept in far less luxurious accommodations before, such as a freezing shuttlepod, a lightweight tent, and some drafty caves, so Trip didn’t mind. In fact, save for the first two nights of this mission, Trip had been asleep when Malcolm had come back and Malcolm had been up and out by the time Trip woke. 

Trip showered and changed, then climbed between the sheets. He settled on his side, facing Malcolm’s empty bed and frowned. The mirrored wall behind Malcolm’s bed was reflecting the bathroom light, which Trip had forgotten to turn off. 

It was funny, Trip thought, gathering the energy to rise. There were no doors to the bathing area; the strategically placed walls insured privacy – except now he noticed, staring at the reflection of the transparent shower stall. I shouldn’t be able to see in there, he thought as he hauled himself up, irritated that he had to turn the light off, but curious about the reflection.

A quick trip to the bathroom showed the reason – the mirrors in the short hallway, the bathroom, and the bedroom were hung at just the right places, giving a direct line of sight straight into the shower stall, but only if someone was lying on Trip’s bed, head resting on the pillow.

Mystery solved, Trip turned off the light and trudged back to bed. He settled in, only to discover he’d forgotten to close the bedroom door. He sighed, debating if it was worth getting up again. The hell with it, he thought as he turned over and closed his eyes.

He was asleep within minutes.

  
***

Voices woke Trip. Actually it was poorly stifled laughter from Jon and Hoshi, with T’Pol’s quiet undertone, no doubt hushing them. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just before midnight; he’d been asleep for a good couple of hours.

He listened to them settle into their rooms and quiet returned to the suite. Malcolm’s bed was still empty and he shifted nosily, trying to get comfortable again. He flipped his pillow over, pounding it a few times to reshape it. He flopped back and tried to relax.

Forty minutes later he was still wide awake. He rose with a disgusted grunt and plodded to the bathroom. He got a drink of water, used the facilities, and washed his hands. On the spur of the moment he grabbed a washcloth and headed back to bed, deciding a quick jerk off would get him back to sleep.

He was in the middle of his favorite fantasy when he heard the front door open. He froze, hand still on his engorged penis. He could hear the faint rustling of bags and footsteps going into the kitchen. A few minutes later there were low voices, the words undistinguishable, but he could tell it was Malcolm and Ashasak’s mother, Lepasha, heading back toward the front door. The door opened and there was a long pause, and then he heard a sultry laugh from Lepasha before the door closed again.

Trip lay there, eyes closed and indecisive, for the next several minutes. His cock was half hard and aching, but the anticipation of Malcolm coming into the bedroom at any moment prevented him from taking care of his unfinished business -- getting caught would be too embarrassing.

A faintly smoky smell of sulfur made him crack open his eyelids. He was startled to see Malcolm was in the room, shoes in hand. He watched Malcolm place them under his bed, then strip off his clothing. With nary a sound Malcolm extracted a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer, and moved silently, and quite nakedly, to the bathroom. 

Trip couldn’t help himself. He’d always found Malcolm physically appealing, in a clinical, detached manner. As they had become friends his appreciation had grown into a mild interest -- nothing serious, more like a casual ‘I wouldn’t kick him out of bed’ kind of thing. So when the shower started, he had to look. 

He stared into the mirrored wall. 

He’d seen Malcolm in his blues before; he’d been with him enough times in decon or the kiting room after missions. Hell, they’d even been tied up together, clothes stolen and clad only in their underwear, on Risa. But clothing didn’t do him justice, Trip thought. 

Trip hadn’t realized that Malcolm had a fairly decent tan, as evidenced by the contrasting whiteness of his smooth and perfectly shaped ass. Which surprised Trip – Malcolm’s ass never looked that nicely rounded clothed. 

Trip’s penis twitched as he watched Malcolm wash his hair. There was a sensuous quality to Malcolm’s movements as his fingers slowly worked through his hair. He stuck his head under the spray and turned around.

Trip’s penis sprang to life. Malcolm’s head was thrown back as he rinsed the shampoo from it. The suds slid down his chest, his nipples little rosy nubs, and over his taut stomach, making their way down to his heavy, thick cock.

Trip grabbed his own cock and started stroking as he watched Malcolm stretch, hands on the back of his neck and arching in pleasure. Trip unconsciously arched in response, eyes on Malcolm’s muscular body. 

Malcolm reached for the shampoo again and worked it into his scalp. Trip grinned when Malcolm shaped his hair into a horn, the show of unexpected playfulness turning Trip on even more. Malcolm grabbed the soap and washcloth and scrubbed himself down, his shampoo horn still a stiff peak. Trip’s hand sped up as Malcolm reached his genitals, soaping himself up languidly as a yawn escaped him.

Trip moaned quietly to himself, his orgasm imminent, when Malcolm tilted his head back, washing out the shampoo, the muscles in his arms and torso gleaming, wetly defined. Malcolm righted himself and ran his hands lazily down his chest and stomach, brushing the suds away, his eyes closed and yawning deeply once more. 

Trip came as Malcolm’s hands continued lower and touched himself lightly, simply rinsing the remainder of the soap.

Trip prolonged his orgasm by watching Malcolm, who was now just standing under the stream of water and letting it flow down upon him, his eyes still closed. His body was brightly illuminated by the halo of light above the shower stall and there was a look of quiet contentment on his face. The image was more erotic than any of the graphic scenes from Trip’s interrupted fantasy. 

Trip used the washcloth to quickly wipe away the evidence of his voyeurism, tossing it under his bed and readjusting his pajamas, feeling only a modicum of shame. But what Malcolm didn’t know wouldn’t hurt, and Trip easily put the feeling aside. 

He was on the verge of sleep when Malcolm returned, the only thing alerting him to his roommate’s presence was the whiff of Malcolm’s clean scent as he slid into bed. Trip belatedly realized that Malcolm had smelled of fireworks when he had first come in, no doubt from accompanying Lepasha to her job. Before he fell asleep, he vaguely wondered what else Malcolm had been doing with the young widow.

***

It was barely morning when Trip woke again, warm and snug in his blankets and feeling alert and well rested. He turned over, opening one eye to check the time – damn, way too early. He debated going back to sleep and his gaze drifted toward Malcolm’s bed. It was empty. 

Trip could now detect the faint scent of something baking. It smelled wonderful. His stomach growled in hunger and decided the debate for him. 

Trip got up, washed his face and changed, retrieving the washcloth from last night and rinsing it out before tossing it into the laundry. He opened the bedroom door, which Malcolm must have closed last night, and was assailed by several delicious scents. 

He followed his nose to the kitchen where he found Malcolm, stirring something in a big ceramic bowl. All four ovens were in use, and there were several pots simmering away on the enormous stovetop. Hundreds of those puff pastry twists were cooling, set out on racks on one long counter, along with dozens of mini frosted cupcakes, with, by the smell of it, more of them baking in one of the ovens.

“Jesus, Malcolm, planning on feeding an army?” Trip blurted out in surprise. Malcolm glanced up and smiled at him before returning his concentration to the task at hand.

“I’ve been told to expect a few more people,” came Malcolm’s wry reply. He explained that the Captain had mentioned their little brunch in passing to the Ambassador during the banquet yesterday. The Ambassador expressed interest in Earth cuisine and Jon invited him and his family over. The three sisters had overhead their conversation and wanted to join in, and of course Jon extended the invitation to the girls. Who then told T’Pol’s guides, who in turn told Trip’s liaisons. 

“So of course I asked Lepasha and Ashasak to come over. Lepasha helped me with some last minute shopping last night. This morning I had Chef beam down a few things that I couldn’t get here, and Phlox has cleared the lot so that I won’t poison our hosts with things like alcohol and chocolate.”

“Alcohol and chocolate? What kind of brunch is this? Not that I’m complaining,” Trip said with a grin.

“Alcohol and chocolate are guaranteed crowd pleasers; enough of either of them and no one will care what the rest of the food tastes like.” Malcolm stopped stirring, set the spoon in the sink and covered the bowl. When he put it in the refrigerator Trip could see stacks of containers arranged neatly inside the unit.

Malcolm rummaged around for a few moments then turned, arms full of Elg vegetables, and shut the door firmly with his hip. He placed them by the sink and started cleaning them. 

“So, what are we having? A full English breakfast? Bangers and mash? Toad in the hole?”

Malcolm shook his head, smiling, suitably entertained by Trip’s attempt at a posh English accent. “No and no crumpets, jugged hare, or spotted dick either. You know, Britain really has become quite the melting pot in the last few centuries. You’re just as likely to dine on African or Indian food as you would fish and chips.” 

He rinsed the last of the vegetables and carried them over to the enormous butcher block of a center island. Trip followed and watched as Malcolm began rapidly cutting them into neat little slices. It reminded Trip of chefs he’d seen in Japanese restaurants where they’d cook at your table, knives flashing and twirling in a performance that was part of the dining experience. Trip leaned against the counter, his offer to help casually waved away with a “thanks, later, when I need it.” 

There was a quiet efficiency to everything Malcolm did as he animatedly talked about the dishes he’d been preparing: the vegetarian ones he was making for T’Pol and two of the sisters, the slow roasted meat curry he’d started earlier, the tartlets and miniature versions of Cornish pasties, and the array of desserts including a traditional English trifle with a tiny non-alcoholic version just for Ashasak. 

For the next few hours Trip sampled a bit of everything, including a roasted bone marrow and parsley salad that was to die for and a pancake stuffed with the Elg version of peanut butter and bananas, which tasted so much better than he thought it would. 

As he was sipping a chocolate Bellini (which tasted just as good as he hoped it would) it struck Trip that Malcolm was enjoying himself. This was a relaxed Malcolm Reed that Trip rarely saw; and considering the addition of more than a dozen extra people coming to their impromptu brunch, a surprisingly unharried one. This was the Malcolm that intrigued him, the one he had glimpsed before; the one that made him want to get to know better.

Trip let Malcolm chatter away, fascinated by this easygoing version of his friend. He took in Malcolm’s appearance -- the bare feet, his flour-smeared jeans and tee shirt, face unshaven and hair uncombed – so unlike the spit and polish officer Trip had known for almost two years.

So deliciously inviting. 

The stray thought almost made Trip choke on his drink. He’d been staring at Malcolm, who had paused in his discourse on how some Elg fruits and vegetables despite their odd shapes and colors actually tasted quite similar to Earth’s own, and now had his fingers laced behind his neck, almost identical to his pose in the shower last night, stretching his cramped back and shoulders. His tee shirt had ridden up, giving Trip a good look of smooth skin and muscle. Trip tore his gaze away, memories of Malcolm’s naked body flashing through his mind, and he realized that his ‘I wouldn’t kick him out of bed’ interest had climbed several notches. 

As his joints cracked Malcolm uttered a low moan of pleasure and the sound went straight to Trip’s groin. He hastily took a sip of his drink, scrambling to think of something to say. He was saved by Malcolm asking for help, explaining what he needed Trip to do and he was grateful for resumption of the innocuous conversation.

And that’s all it had been, Trip thought as he started peeling a tangerine-like vegetable that smelled and tasted just like a cucumber -- simple conversation. Trip knew Malcolm could talk your ear off about weapons or history or literature or dozens of other subjects, but anything personal -- well, Trip could count those conversations on one hand and still have fingers left over. Which was why, despite the fear and despair he had felt at the time, Trip wouldn’t have changed their frozen and helpless experience on Shuttlepod One for anything in the world. Because Malcolm had talked to him, really talked to him, and Trip had been allowed behind the professional and somewhat standoffish exterior. They’d become good friends after that.

He glanced over at Malcolm, who was sautéing something, his full concentration focused on what he was doing. He’d fallen silent, and Trip was again struck by how at ease the man looked.

“How come you know how to cook, Malcolm?” 

Malcolm shrugged one shoulder. “Most people know how, don’t they?” 

“Not like this.”

Malcolm pursed his lips and Trip could tell he was debating with himself. It was the same look he’d had when Trip had asked what happened out on the hull, when he’d been pinned by that mine. Deciding just how much to say. 

Although Malcolm had told him everything, Trip remembered with a touch of pride. Another one of those rare times when Malcolm had opened up. They’d talked far into the night, over a couple of beers for Trip and cups of tea for Malcolm, who’d been on painkillers for his leg. Trip’s gut still churned at the thought that he could have been ordered to detach the hull with Malcolm still on it; intellectually it would have been the right decision, sacrificing one man for the sake of the ship, but emotionally – Trip knew it was a call he would never want to face, admiring and at the same time almost pitying Jon for having to make those types of decisions. The fact that Malcolm had tried to save Jon from living with that guilt had given Trip an insight into the man’s empathy; something that, for whatever reason, Malcolm often tried to hide.

Trip realized that empathy was another reason he became friends with Malcolm – he was a good listener and could be sensitive to Trip’s moods, when he wasn’t being a snarky pain in the ass. After that debacle with the cogenitor, when Jon had been so angry with him, Malcolm hadn’t turned away. Trip had felt self-conscious and guilty and angry at himself, but Malcolm put up with all of it, going out of his way to accompany Trip to meals and the gym and movie night, even sitting through the ancient weepy dramas that Trip loved. 

“My flatmate was a chef at a four star restaurant. I learnt from him,” Malcolm finally said.

There was a reluctant undertone to Malcolm’s words, which only served to pique Trip’s interest. “Was there a problem?” he asked gently. 

Malcolm looked up at him. “Not with Ian.” He dumped the contents of the pan into a bowl and turned the flame off. “It was just a time in my life that was – complicated.” He leaned against the counter next to Trip and crossed his arms across his chest. “You know that my father and I have a difficult relationship. Looking back, some of Ian’s advice made things worse and I wasn’t mature enough to see the repercussions...it’s a long story.”

“I’ve got the time,” Trip invited.

Malcolm merely stared at him and Trip could almost see the cogs turning. What to say, how much to say...how much to trust him. Trip returned that steely grey stare calmly and saw it soften. Malcolm pushed off the counter and grabbed the small pitcher of chocolate Bellinis – refreshing Trip’s drink and pouring the remainder for himself. 

“Well, _I_ don’t have the time to get into it, but I’ll give you the short version,” Malcolm said as he settled against the counter again. He took a sip of his drink before starting. “You know my father had my future all planned out for me.” Trip nodded; he knew that Malcolm hadn’t wanted to join the Navy. “Right. So when I was 15, he sent me back to England, to a military academy, to prep for the Royal Navy College.”

“Back to England?”

“We’d been stationed in Malaysia for the past six years. I loved it there; well, not the climate,” Malcolm said. “I never got back though.” There was a bittersweet quality to Malcolm’s voice that made Trip stop peeling a cucumber-tangerine and look at him. Malcolm’s gaze was fixed on the kitchen floor, not really seeing it. Trip stayed quiet, waiting for Malcolm to continue, but when he didn’t, Trip prompted him.

“How come?”

Malcolm seemed to shake himself. “Oh, well, by the time I was finishing up the academy, my father was assigned elsewhere and they’d moved again. He’d already got me accepted into the RNC and...” Malcolm hesitated. “Let’s just say we’ve disagreed on everything thereafter, including whether I left home or he kicked me out.” Trip got the impression that Malcolm was leaving out something, but he didn’t say anything, knowing that Malcolm was liable to clam up if he pushed and he didn’t want to push – this was the first time Malcolm had ever said more than a few words about his youth and Trip was interested.

Malcolm finished his drink and set the glass down, taking the empty sauté pan from stove. He took it to the sink and began to wash it. Trip automatically grabbed a towel and went to stand next to him. It was so typical of Malcolm to clean up as he went, Trip thought, although he had to admit it hadn’t been a bad idea – it was better than a pile of dirty cookware cluttering the kitchen and they’d gotten in to an easy rhythm in the last couple of hours with Malcolm washing and Trip drying. 

“Luckily I’d already applied for several scholarships and got one for the University in London so I took that,” Malcolm continued. “It was tuition only, so I’d beg a week on friends’ couches until I found work. That’s where I met Ian – my job at the restaurant’s nightclub. He liked me and offered me a room in his flat, cheap. It worked out, so I stayed til I graduated.” 

“Did he – was he your boyfriend?” Trip asked, not sure what answer he wanted to hear: a yes, which meant that Malcolm was bi, or a no, because, to Trip’s surprise, he felt a prickle of irrational jealousy toward Ian.

Malcolm laughed. “Good lord, no – Ian’s as straight as they come; between us we had more totty thrown our way than we knew what to do with.” He flashed Trip a satisfied smirk. “We did well together – he was nearly twice my age, tall, well-built, movie star looks – complete opposite of me. We attracted different types of girls, so we weren’t in competition.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, eyes faraway. “Actually, he was more like a father-figure; or at least an older, smarter brother. He was patient and stable, and that was something I needed in my life at the time. He usually gave me excellent advice and encouraged me to join Starfleet. Unfortunately he also advised me to not contact my parents – and I was too angry and immature to realize that wasn’t the best way to deal with the situation.” 

Malcolm rinsed the pan and handed it to Trip. “Anyway, that’s how I learnt to cook. Not a very interesting story.” He moved back to the butcher block, picked up a knife and began cutting the peeled cucumber-tangerines into thin slices. 

“I think it’s interesting. I find you very interesting, Malcolm,” Trip said sincerely. 

Trip didn’t mention that he found it very interesting when he saw Malcolm blush slightly at his comment.

***

They’d just put the finishing touches on the little cucumber-tangerine finger sandwiches, bread crusts trimmed off and with a filling so deliciously savory that Trip could have cheerfully lived on them for the next month, when the rest of their crewmates filed into the kitchen, well rested and curious. Malcolm asked Trip and Jon to move the table outside to join the other one on the patio, and Hoshi and T’Pol to set out the napkins and cutlery so he could clean up and change before their guests arrived. He made a large pitcher of chocolate Bellinis and pulled out a platter of fruit to distract Jon and Hoshi from sampling everything in his absence.

Trip noticed when Malcolm slipped back into the kitchen, freshly showered and shaven, his hair still slightly damp and slicked back. Lamupar and Iniros were already there, having unexpectedly brought along their three college-age children who were eager to meet the away team, excited by the opportunity to talk to real, live aliens. The ambassador and his family had arrived moments before, bearing bottles of wine and a traditional Elg dish. 

As their new friends arrived the kitchen filled with people, as well as more food and drinks brought to contribute to the meal. They all volunteered to help, their curiosity about Earth food and dining customs apparent. Malcolm calmly organized everyone while he set to making the pancakes, the ambassador engaging him in seemingly casual conversation. Soon an astonishing variety of food was being put out in a grand buffet. 

Trip was the only one to hear the door chime over the chatter and laughter. He answered it, finding Lepasha standing there balancing little Ashasak on one hip with a large grocery bag dangling from the crook of her elbow and a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “I thought I’d bring a few things, just in case Malcolm needed them,” she said as Ashasak reached out to him, her tiny hands aiming for his nose with a gleeful squeal of “Dertuck!” 

Trip laughed at her rendition of his name and dodged the grabbing little hands, playfully tweaking Ashasak’s nose. “Now I got your nose!” he teased, showing her his thumb between his fingers. Ashasak patted her nose and giggled when she felt it still there. He took the bag and flowers from Lepasha. When she smiled her thanks, Trip was struck again by just how pretty she was. 

Trip led them to the kitchen, where Ashasak, catching sight of Malcolm, struggled to get out of her mother’s arms. Lepasha let her down and Ashasak ran to Malcolm. “Lewd! Lewd!”

Malcolm turned from his conversation with the ambassador. His eyes lit up and he bent down, scooping up Ashasak and swinging her high above his head. “Hello, poppet,” he greeted her warmly. He twirled her around, peals of laughter issuing from the little girl.

The wide smile on his face and the genuine affection in his voice did something to Trip’s insides and he couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his own face. Trip had always expected a Charles Tucker the Fourth someday but he’d never dated a man who shared the same desire, which was why he’d been focusing on women in recent years. But looking at Malcolm interact with Ashasak reminded him that not all men were like the ones he’d dated in the past.

Trip’s grin faded when he saw how Lepasha was looking at Malcolm.


	2. Chapter 2

  
“Oh god, I’m stuffed,” Trip groaned as he settled on the couch opposite Malcolm. It was well past sunset, their brunch having lasted all day and into the evening. It had been quite successful and a true cultural exchange, with the away team enjoying the exotic Elg dishes and the Elg delighting in having a taste of Earth cuisine. Trip thought that each dish Malcolm had prepared was wonderful, and he could see by the multiple trips to refill their plates that everyone else thought so as well. In fact, Trip had never seen T’Pol eat so much at one sitting. Later he caught Malcolm showing Hoshi and T’Pol the stash of extra puff pastry twists and sauce he’d put aside especially for each of them. Trip could swear that T’Pol’s eyes had a gleam of greed in them when she saw the containers. 

At the table Jon had graciously made a toast thanking Malcolm, the others joining in with their accolades, mentioning the items that they particularly liked. Trip felt a surge of affection when he saw that blend of embarrassment and pleasure again as Malcolm ducked his head, a bit overwhelmed by the praise. Trip enjoyed seeing Malcolm squirm like this; there was an endearing awkwardness to his friend whenever he was the center of attention. Trip had first noticed it when Jon had that cake made for Malcolm’s birthday. Malcolm’s reaction had amused Trip, but he had to admit later that he had found it...cute.

Trip’s smug enjoyment turned to surprised when Malcolm toasted Trip in return, thanking him for his help, stating he couldn’t have done it without him. Trip felt his face beginning to heat as everyone’s regard was turned on him. Although he could tell that Malcolm’s toast was sincere, Trip still caught a glimpse of deviltry in Malcolm’s eyes as he saluted him with his water glass, watching as everybody fussed over Trip and thereby deflecting the spotlight away from himself. 

The rest of the day had been spent socializing and playing games in the yard, one of which was still going on. It was very much like volleyball with Jon, Trip, the ambassador and his sons, as well as Lamupar’s and Iniros’s boys facing off against Hoshi, the sisters, the ambassador’s daughter and wife, and Lepasha. 

T’Pol’s guides had brought along a more sedate game, a kind of croquet, which Ashasak loved. Malcolm, T’Pol’s three liaisons, as well as the sisters’ groom-to-be played, keeping the little girl happy and occupied. 

However, the excitement of the day had worn her out and Ashasak was currently conked out on Malcolm’s lap, her head tucked against his neck, one little hand still entangled in his hair. Malcolm snorted quietly, careful not to wake Ashasak. “I told you four helpings of dessert would be too much.” 

“I couldn’t help it,” Trip whined. “They all looked so good.” 

“You’re hopeless, you know that?”

At that moment Jon entered, a bottle of wine in one hand and his almost empty glass in the other. He topped off Trip’s glass and a sigh of relief escaped him as he sat down next to Trip. He finished off his wine and refilled his own glass. “Could have used you two out there – Hoshi got T’Pol to play again and they kicked our asses – again.” 

“I can’t move,” Trip explained, taking a sip of his wine.

“I’ve got my hands full,” Malcolm apologized.

Jon grinned. “It’s okay, Malcolm – you’ve had your hands full all day.” He nodded at Ashasak. “Looks like she’s out for the count.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Yes, she’s had good day.”

“It’s been a great day,” Jon said. “I want to thank you – I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. When I dared you to make brunch, I didn’t know it was going to turn into all this.”

“It was no trouble, sir,” Malcolm protested, “and Trip did help an awful lot.” 

“Yeah, but you really did a terrific job. The ambassador is extremely pleased – he’s waiving several points of policy and fast-tracking full relations with Earth. We can start trading in three weeks and exchanging tech info in about six months. That’s saving us at least a year and half of wrangling back and forth.” 

The ambassador had also revealed to Jon that one of the reasons he was the ambassador for alien contacts was because of his highly developed empathic sense, much different than the average Elg. While he couldn’t read a person’s mind, he could tell if someone was hiding something, outright lying, or being sincere. The ambassador had casually spoken to all of the away team during the course of their stay and had come away impressed by Jon’s crew. He’d felt the genuine acceptance the away team had for T’Pol, an alien, and her level of comfort among her crewmates. That camaraderie they shared had helped convince him that Humans had no sinister ulterior motive in wanting to befriend the Elg. 

He’d also been impressed by the flexibility Jon’s crew had shown today, from preparing food for an unexpectedly large crowd, to joining in the games, playing with sportsmanship and passion. But most of all he’d been impressed by the consideration and attention that the crew had paid to the children, especially to Ashasak. 

What Jon didn’t know was how thoroughly their emotions had been probed. The ambassador could feel that Hoshi, Trip, and Jon were exactly as they presented themselves, their friendly intentions broadcasted openly, their emotions close to the surface. Jon was truly an explorer, eager to meet new people and become allies. The ambassador thought that if he could temper his impetuousness, the captain could some day become one of the great diplomats. 

Hoshi’s gift for languages had amazed him, her savant-like ability fascinating. He could detect no arrogance from her –- she was genuinely modest about her talent, and the ambassador couldn’t help but be enchanted by her.

However, the most significant piece of information the ambassador had discovered was the genuine respect and interest the Enterprise crew had shown throughout their interaction with the Elg’s most important treasure – their children. No matter whether the questions were from toddlers, teenagers, or young adults, the humans had patiently answered all of them, giving them the serious consideration they deserved. Hoshi’s sweet nature and intelligence had come across time and time again. Despite the cold and oft-time haughty reputation Vulcans had, the ambassador hadn’t felt that in T’Pol. The Vulcan had been more difficult to probe but he had felt a quick mind and burning curiosity in T’Pol, as well as her fondness for her crewmates, her emotions repressed, but there nonetheless. But he’d been mightily impressed by Trip and Malcolm, especially their interactions with Ashasak.

Trip was an open, charming, and gentle man. He’d observed Trip spending a good hour hunting for and examining bugs in the yard with Ashasak even though he could feel Trip’s discomfort with insects. But Ashasak had insisted that Trip help her find a habbico. When they finally found one Trip had hunkered down with the little girl, allowing the insect to crawl on his fingers, both admiring the sparkling wings of the creature. The ambassador had felt Trip’s delight when the habbico had crawled onto Ashasak’s chubby little hand, its proboscis unfurling and tickling the child, making her laugh. He could tell that Trip was fully engaged in Ashasak’s world, not faking his interest nor feeling it was tedious to roam the yard with the child. The ambassador could feel Trip’s affection for her, and that Trip was genuinely enjoying himself. He’d told Jon that Trip would make a fine father some day.

Malcolm had been of special interest to the ambassador. He’d been wary when he first met the serious young man whose emotions were almost as deeply buried as the Vulcan’s. It had been an unusual contrast to the rest of the humans and, coupled with the man’s position as armory and tactical officer, something of a worry. Especially when the man had wanted to leave, making the ambassador suspicious of their true intentions. However, over the course of the humans’ stay, he’d had the opportunity to study the lieutenant and his suspicion had turned into understanding. 

The ambassador felt Malcolm’s dedication – not a belligerent, violent militaristic bent, but a need to defend his ship and protect his crewmates. His emotions were intense but he kept them tightly reined. He was quiet but quick witted, mild mannered yet strong willed and wary, with an innate gentleness that manifested itself in his interactions with Ashasak and her mother. The ambassador found him to be a complex package of contradictions, and most intriguing. 

Of course, Jon didn’t know any of this, although he’d noticed that the ambassador had made a concentrated effort to talk to all of his people, one on one, several times. It struck him as unusual, used to government dignitaries not having the time nor inclination to interact with people who were considered ‘underlings’ and therefore of little importance to the diplomatic process. But Jon hadn’t chalked it up to simple curiosity, although the Elg certainly possessed that trait in abundance. 

Jon took another sip of wine, reflecting that there was more to the ambassador’s line of chit chat than just polite small talk. He had a gut feeling that they had all been tested and had passed, hence the acceleration of diplomatic ties. 

His attention was pulled away from his musings as Ashasak made a small cooing sound, her hand clutching Malcolm’s hair as she turned her head. One sleepy eye opened and she smiled at Jon. “E-lo, Capcher,” she murmured to him before settling down again, fast asleep once more. 

Grins appeared on the men’s faces, with Trip uttering a small chuckle; Ashasak had not only said hello in English, but with an English accent.

“I see you’ve made quite an impression on her,” Jon said before taking a sip of his wine, his eyes smiling at Malcolm over the rim of his glass.

“She’s quite clever,” Malcolm replied, a little proudly, Trip thought.

“You know, I never pegged you as being much of the family man type,” Jon said. Malcolm raised his eyebrows and Trip couldn’t tell if he was offended or not. Apparently Jon couldn’t either for he began to backtrack. “I mean, not that you wouldn’t make a good dad, but –“

“I’m not particularly close to my own family,” Malcolm finished for him with a small, wry smile. He shrugged. “I love kids. I always have. In fact, one of my Eagle Scout badges was in child care.” 

“Me too!” Jon exclaimed, leaning forward and eyes lighting up. Trip settled back into the couch, making himself comfortable. Get Jon started on his scouting days and you were in for quite a trip down memory lane.

“When I was in high school, I taught water polo classes for kids under 12. It was great; I was doing something I loved and I earned badges for both child care and sports. I had one kid who went on to be part of the American team that went to the Nairobi Olympics.” 

Trip and Malcolm exchanged an indulgent glance, tickled by their captain’s excitement. Jon proceeded to tell them about the final match at the Olympics with the gold medal on the line and his student’s part in the drama.

Trip had heard this story before but he was content to sit there while Jon talked, all boyish enthusiasm and positively glowing with the memory. He loved it when the captain’s pips came off and Jon appeared, that happy go lucky, exuberant man who’d give you the shirt off his back. 

He turned his attention to Malcolm, who had slight smile on his face, avidly listening to Jon. Ashasak had stirred again, roused by Jon’s voice rising in excitement as he recounted the tying goal. Malcolm rubbed her back, rocking slightly, and effortlessly soothed her. She turned her head and Trip could see that her eyes remained half-opened, sleepily listening to Jon. 

Trip felt a wave of fondness pass over him as he studied Malcolm. There was an unexpected tenderness in Malcolm’s touch, although it didn’t surprise Trip. Malcolm could be quite sweet. Well, sweet wasn’t exactly the word he was looking for, Trip decided. Malcolm could be a sarcastic, arrogant, irritating little fucker and that was on a good day. 

Jon was reaching the climax of his story, and Malcolm’s eyes were wide, thoroughly engrossed in the tale. Trip stared at them. 

Malcolm had kind eyes. 

His eyes reflected his feelings much more clearly than his face ever did, Trip mused. He’d seen them ice cold with fury and contempt, warm with friendship and sparkling in mischief, stormy with pent-up worry or deep emotions – but kind was mostly the default setting. 

And Malcolm was kind – unless you pissed him off or if he was stressed out. But he was usually helpful and polite to the crew, even those lowest on the totem pole. While he was a stickler for hierarchical protocol, he didn’t lord it over the lower ranks – he treated officers and crew the same. He had high expectations for his staff, but nothing that he wouldn’t demand from himself, and he knew how to cut people slack when necessary. Kind, Trip thought. That was the word he was looking for.

Gorgeous was another word that came to mind, Trip thought, still staring at Malcolm’s eyes. Their color really stood out, highlighted by that dark hair and those long lashes. Having blue eyes himself, Trip had never been much attracted to the color; he preferred dark ones, like Hoshi’s, or T’Pol’s – they both had beautiful eyes. But Malcolm’s eyes weren’t a typical blue; and they actually did change depending on what he was wearing or what he was feeling. Of course he’d heard about that before but had never known anyone whose eyes reacted that way, until he met Malcolm. It was really quite fascinating.

Trip studied the other aspects of Malcolm’s face. His nose was straight, but sort of big for his profile. His jaw line was nicely shaped but short. His lips were thin and sometimes the top one seemed to be permanently lifted in a snotty smirk. Yet, somehow, all of it worked together, making him much more attractive than those disparate pieces had any right to be. 

Actually the best part of his features was his high cheekbones, Trip decided. And his eyes. Not to mention his body, the sudden thought intruded, Trip’s voyeuristic memories from last night coming back to him. He took another sip of wine to cool the unexpected heat that came with the remembered images.

He tore his gaze away from Malcolm and that’s when he noticed that the ambassador was in the room, standing quietly next to the sofa where Trip was sitting, apparently listening to Jon’s story with interest. As Trip met the ambassador’s orange eyes, he had the unnerving feeling that he’d been under the ambassador’s scrutiny all this time.

Jon finished and Trip saw Malcolm break out into that wide grin that made his eyes nearly disappear. “Brilliant,” Malcolm said, shaking his head and still smiling. “I wasn’t aware that tactics played such an important role in water polo. I’d heard it was ‘just a bunch of guys fooling around in a pool’,” Malcolm drawled, mimicking Trip’s accent. Jon laughed as Trip glared at Malcolm. 

“I would like to see this game,” the ambassador said. 

Jon grinned at him. “I’ll send you some vids. It’s a great sport.”

Ashasak raised her head. “More storytime, Capcher?” Jon looked surprised; he hadn’t realized she’d been awake.

“Oh no, no more stories for you, little one,” Lepasha said, entering the room. “It’s time for us to go home and go to sleep in our own nice beds.”

“Lewd nice bed,” Ashasak protested, sitting up and lightly patting Malcolm’s shoulder.

“Lieutenant Reed may make a nice bed, but yours is much softer,” Lepasha said with a grin, looking over Ashasak’s head and into Malcolm’s eyes. 

Ashasak poked Malcolm’s chest. “No. Not soft,” she agreed. “But still nice bed.” 

Lepasha laughed and took Ashasak from Malcolm, settling her daughter on her hip. “Let’s say good night to everyone before we leave, all right?” Ashasak nodded and Lapasha took her from the room, heading for the yard. 

Malcolm stood and stretched, reluctantly looking in the direction of the kitchen. “I should start tidying up--“

The ambassador interrupted him. “It’s all done – everything has been washed, put away and the battle for the leftovers has been fought,” he said, leaning in closer and continuing in a confidential manner, “I’m happy to report that my wife has won a portion of that delicious salad you made, as well as a few of the – what did you say they were called? ‘Fairy cakes?’” Malcolm nodded. “They were delightful, Lieutenant! You must give me the recipe. I wouldn’t mind trying to make some myself to serve at the next budget meeting.”

The mention of the fairly cakes made Trip hope that some had been left for the away team; as full as he was, he thought that he just might be able to eat another one or two of them later. They had been pretty damn tasty. 

The ambassador turned to Trip, a slight smile on his face. “Don’t worry, Commander, we did manage to leave some fairy cakes, as well as a bit of everything else, for all of you.” 

Surprised by the ambassador’s seemingly clairvoyant remark, Trip was momentarily lost for words and then Lamupar and Iniros’s family came whirling in, saying their goodbyes, with a few excited last minutes questions from the offspring. Soon the room was filled with their guests, bidding everyone farewell in the traditional Elg fashion of holding the person’s face and touching cheeks, any actual face to face contact separated by their hand. Higher levels of intimacy were achieved by direct cheek to cheek contact, with close family members also touching foreheads as well.

Through the chaos, Trip saw Lepasha come in, deep in conversation with the ambassador’s wife, but she looked over and warmly smiled at him. He grinned and winked at her, pleased when she winked back. He’d had his first long conversation with Lapasha this afternoon and afterwards she’d invited him on their planned trip to the zoo. 

He’d enjoyed their time together, uninterrupted and undistracted as Malcolm kept Ashasak occupied for most of the day. Trip found Lepasha to be alluring and intelligent, and they had a lot in common. He found himself flirting just a bit, not really meaning to, but had been delighted when Lepasha playfully flirted back. She really was quite pretty.

Hoshi and T’Pol followed, Ashasak holding tightly to T’Pol’s hand. Their Vulcan science officer was listening intently, nodding quite seriously as Ashasak chattered away. The sight amused Trip – and he nearly laughed out loud as T’Pol stopped and knelt down, allowing Ashasak to touch the tip of her ear.   
  
I bet she’d be a good mother, Trip thought to himself as he watched Ashasak and T’Pol exchange the ritual Elg farewell. He (along with over half the men on the ship) always had a slight attraction to T’Pol, but he’d recently come to the conclusion that a majority of it was because of the exotic nature of her being non-human, her impressive intellect – and not to mention her obvious physical attributes. But while they got along well enough as co-workers and even as friends, and while he liked and respected her, there wasn’t that spark of...something.

Unconsciously he looked for Malcolm. He spotted him with one of the three sisters. They had their hands on each other’s faces, cheeks lightly bumping against them, saying goodbye. 

T’Pol’s liaisons’ husband came up and Trip felt only slightly awkward as he repeated the cheek nudging gesture with him. After the last few days, Trip had been getting used to it.

Trip squatted down as Ashasak approached him. She solemnly said goodbye, and placed her hands on his cheeks, pressing her cheek against first one then the other. She then surprised him by pressing her tiny snub of a nose against his.

She held up her thumb. “Gotcha nose!” she squealed, grinning from ear to ear. Trip laughed out loud. She scampered off, heading toward Malcolm. 

Trip watched as Malcolm bent down and picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his left one, then his right. She then placed her forehead against his. “Bye, Lewd.”

“Bye, poppet. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Malcolm said. 

“Promise?”

“We’re going to the zoo, remember?” She nodded.

When Lepasha came up and pressed her bare cheek against Malcolm’s, Trip didn’t know exactly what he was feeling. He couldn’t help but a prick of envy at the picture they made, a happy little threesome, just like the family he’d always envisioned for himself. There may have been a little jealously thrown in as well, he admitted, but he wasn’t quite sure who that jealously was aimed at – Malcolm or Lepasha.

He was trying to wrap his head around that revelation when he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. “It appears that they have become quite fond of your lieutenant,” the ambassador said softly. 

“He’s a good guy,” Trip replied, watching Ashasak jabber excitedly to her mother, one arm still wrapped around Malcolm’s neck.  
  
The ambassador stood at Trip’s shoulder. “It’s rare that a single parent gets the chance to relax and have fun. Your crew has given her a gift today by watching over Ashasak with such care. I thank you for that.”

Trip turned to him. “She’s a great kid,” he said sincerely, “It’s been our pleasure.” 

The ambassador nodded. “It’s been a very difficult year for Lepasha,” he said conversationally, turning his gaze back at the three. “I believe this has made her realize that she is allowed to enjoy herself. That she is allowed to think of companionship again.”

“She deserves to be happy.” They watched as Ashasak ‘took’ Lepasha’s nose and Trip smiled at Lepasha’s exaggerated efforts to find it.

“So she does. Everyone does,” the ambassador agreed.

They silently watched the three for a minute or two. Trip felt another flicker of emotion as Malcolm laughed at something Lepasha said as he pretended to find and replace her nose.

“It’s just a matter of taking that step, isn’t it? To realize what will make you happy, and then pursue it.”

“I suppose it is,” Trip replied, distracted. There was that feeling again, stronger this time as he watched Lepasha brush back a piece of Malcolm’s hair which had been dislodged by Ashasak’s squirming around.

“Elg mate for life. That’s not the Human way though, is it?”

“No, sometimes it doesn’t work out, but we all go into it hoping for the best.” At that moment Malcolm looked over. He had Ashasak upside down and the little girl was giggling madly as her mother tickled her tummy. Malcolm gave Trip a huge smile.

Trip couldn’t help the grin that formed on his own face. Malcolm looked so happy, his eyes warm, his usually guarded gaze open and direct and looking right at Trip, just straight into him -- and something twisted inside Trip. 

“And sometimes the best is right under our noses, Commander.” 

Trip stared at the ambassador, startled. Once again, those orange eyes were studying him with interest. The ambassador’s wife chose that moment to say goodbye, and Trip went through the required motions. Then they were heading out the door with their children, a small enigmatic smile on the ambassador’s face.

After five minutes of whirlwind farewells, only the Enterprise crew remained, and they looked a little like how Trip felt, a bit off balance by the sudden quiet.

“I think this calls for a drink,” Hoshi said. 

“Hell, yes,” Jon agreed as he collapsed into a nearby chair. “I’ve been run ragged. You two are never allowed on the same team ever again,” he said, giving the women a stern look.

T’Pol sat down on the other chair. She didn’t say anything, but Trip caught the triumphant look that passed between her and Hoshi. 

Hoshi gave Malcolm a push toward the couch. “Sit down, Malcolm, before you keel over.” She walked into the kitchen, talking louder to be heard. “You must be exhausted, always getting in so late and up so early, now cooking all day and watching Ashasak – when do you sleep? Or don’t you need it like the rest of us mortals?” She came back into the room, carrying two bottles. She crossed over to the wet bar and pulled out some glasses, pouring a generous portion in each of them. She took two of the glasses and handed one to T’Pol, ignoring the woman’s protest, then held the other in front of Malcolm. “Sit,” she commanded. Malcolm sat. “Good boy,” she said with a smirk and gave him the drink. 

Trip snorted a laugh as he helped himself to a glass, handing a grinning Jon the other one. Hoshi took hers. “Prost,” she saluted. She drank a large swallow. “Oh that’s divine,” she purred. 

Trip took a sip of his drink. He felt a delightful heat spread through his chest and eagerly took another sip. It warmed his stomach and that overfilled feeling disappeared. He sighed in relief and plopped down on the couch next to Malcolm.

Jon eyed his glass doubtfully. “I shouldn’t mix my drinks.”

“Live a little, Captain,” Hoshi admonished. “The ambassador’s wife comes from a very old and well respected family of distillers and this is their finest ‘Joca’. Besides, I checked with Phlox and it won’t mix badly with the wine. As long as you drink it in moderation.” She took another sip. “She also said it aides in digestion, for which I’m glad – I ate way too much!” She glared at Malcolm. “That’s your fault, you know. If I can’t fit into my uniform tomorrow, I’m going to kill you.” She sat down on the other side of Malcolm and gave his shoulder a friendly bump to show she was just kidding. 

“That would be unfortunate,” T’Pol said as she took a tentative sip of her drink. “Wherever would we get our supply of treacle tarts from then?”

The humans laughed; they were all aware of T’Pol’s new found fascination with that particular dessert, almost surpassing her love of the puff pastry twists.

Trip looked at Malcolm, who was staring into his untouched glass, a small smile on his face. Upon closer inspection Trip could see that Malcolm looked bone tired but happy. He prodded Malcolm with his elbow. “Drink up – it’s real good and you deserve it.” It occurred to Trip that beside the half glassful of the chocolate Bellini earlier in the morning, Malcolm had only water or juice all day. “You’re not on duty, you know,” he added, only half teasing him. Malcolm rolled his eyes, but took a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, but when you’re watching kids it’s like being on duty,” Jon said. He and Malcolm exchanged a look. “You have to be ready for anything, right, Malcolm?”

Malcolm nodded. “Yes, sir. The first thing they drill into you is responsibility – ‘no drink, no drugs, no distractions’,” he recited. “And Lord knows you have to watch them like a hawk or you’re liable to have the whole room down upon you whilst your back’s turned.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Jon chuckled. 

“Oh, like you guys have been babysitters?” Hoshi scoffed.

“We each got eagle scout badges in child care,” Jon said proudly.

“Hmm,” Hoshi nodded thoughtfully, looking at Malcolm. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. You’re good with kids. I remember that time on Kartok II.”

“And on Denashey Protus,” T’Pol put in. 

Trip hadn’t gone down to either planet and made a mental note to look up the logs of those missions. Malcolm merely shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve always liked kids. They’re easy to get along with.”

“I’ve always found it difficult,” Hoshi admitted. “Then again, I never babysat or anything growing up, so I never really got a chance to be around kids too much. And forget babies – I wouldn’t know what to do! Diapers and spit-up,” she made a face, shuddering.

Malcolm laughed. “Babies are easy.” He gave Hoshi’s shoulder a nudge with his own. “And you did well with Ashasak today.” 

“She’s a sweetie,” Hoshi said. “But I don’t think I could have watched her all day long; it’s exhausting! Who knew something so little could have so much energy!”

“Try twins,” Jon said. With that he launched into a series of stories that had the humans groaning and laughing, often at the same time. A couple of glasses of Joca later, Malcolm shared one about his sick scout master and the group of nine year olds he was forced to ride herd on for the rest of his last, ill-fated camping trip in the jungles of Malaysia that included broken gear, endless rain, thieving monkeys, amorous snakes, and a nest of sharp toothed baby crocodiles.

By the end of Malcolm’s story Trip was wiping tears from his eyes and trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard. Jon and Hoshi were practically rolling on the floor, and T’Pol even had a slight lift to her lips. 

Malcolm’s chuckling turned into a gigantic yawn. He gave them a sheepish smile and rubbed his eyes. “As pleasant as this has been, I think I need to get to bed.” He drained the rest of his glass and stood. 

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the crocodiles bite,” Hoshi giggled. Malcolm laughed and left to a chorus of goodnights.

Trip couldn’t help himself; it took him all of six minutes to follow Malcolm into the bedroom.

  
***

He found Malcolm in the bathroom, just finishing brushing his teeth, already wearing pajama bottoms. Trip briefly allowed his eyes to roam Malcolm’s body, taking in the slender waist and nicely defined abs, memories of last night’s shower flitting through his mind. He pulled his gaze away as Malcolm met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

“I’m beat,” Trip said, explaining his presence. “Thought I’d turn in too.” Malcolm just nodded and spit into the sink, then rinsed his mouth out. 

“We do have a big day at the zoo tomorrow,” Malcolm said. 

Trip pulled his shirt off and threw it in the laundry. He turned the faucet on and started washing his face. “Hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”

“Not at all,” Malcolm said, pulling a tee shirt on over his head. He finger combed his mussed hair back into shape. “Just be warned – Ashasak wants to spend a lot of time at the insect exhibit.” Malcolm’s eyes danced with mirth at Trip’s grimace of distaste. Trip caught Malcolm’s look of amusement so he flicked some water at him in retaliation. Malcolm just laughed and retreated into the bedroom. Trip finished up and followed a few minutes later. He found Malcolm already in bed, settled on his back with his arms behind his head. 

Trip got into his own bed. “I finally got a chance to talk to Lepasha for a while. She’s really something, isn’t she?” he asked slyly.

“Yes, she certainly is,” Malcolm replied. There was a wistful tone to Malcolm’s voice, which completely derailed Trip’s intention to do a little friendly baiting. While Lepasha piqued his interest, not to mention his competitive nature, he didn’t want to do anything that would hurt Malcolm. 

“I don’t have to go. I’m not trying to horn in or anything,” Trip said seriously. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not.” 

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“Yes, very much,” Malcolm answered softly.  
  
“Do you...love her?” 

“We hardly know each other.”

“You’ve spent almost every waking minute with her. I think you gotta be feeling something.” Trip didn’t fully know why he was badgering Malcolm about this but it was suddenly important to him.

’What I feel doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” Trip asked, almost indignant.

“Elg mate for life, Trip. It’s not as if she’s going to uproot her family and leave her home for someone she’s known for less than a fortnight.”

“You could always stay,” Trip said, although he hated the thought of Malcolm leaving Enterprise. In fact, he was startled by just how negatively he reacted to the idea.

Malcolm snorted. “You, my friend, are a romantic.”

“And you’re a cynic,” Trip retorted, only half joking.

Malcolm shook his head. “I’m realistic. Yes, it would be lovely to fall head over heels, run away and live happily ever after. But it’s not like that.” He shifted to his side, propping his head up in his hand and continued, his tone very serious now. “Her husband’s death is still quite raw. I’m just a new ear to bend, a distraction – training wheels for her to get back into the mindset that she can pick up the pieces and continue on with her life. It would be unbelievably cruel to take advantage of her vulnerability and cultural background by leading her to think that our...relationship...is anything other than temporary.”

“But what do you want?” Trip pressed. 

Malcolm stared at him for a long moment. Trip couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but whatever it was Trip hoped he hadn’t pushed too hard. So he was relieved, and a little surprised, when Malcolm lowered his gaze and answered him, his voice low.

“I want something permanent – I want that happily ever after. But I want to stay on Enterprise, so I don’t think I’ll be getting that any time soon.”

There was something sad and weary in the way Malcolm spoke that went straight to Trip’s heart.

“I want someone who understands what..I mean, who doesn't...I just...” Malcolm shrugged helplessly. “Just someone willing to put up with me, I guess.” 

“Someone you can get close to,” Trip murmured, remembering what Malcolm had said when they were stranded on Shuttlepod One. “Someone who knows you and wants you just the way you are.”

Malcolm nodded, still avoiding eye contact with Trip.   
  
“You said last year you were getting comfortable with the crew and I call tell; you have,” Trip noted. “So, have you thought about anyone on the ship?” Malcolm looked up now, and opened his mouth to speak, but Trip cut him off, knowing what he was going to say. “Regulations allow for relationships, just as long as it doesn’t affect anyone’s performance of their duty. We’ve got couples on the ship and the captain’s always been fine with it.” 

“You know it’s different for officers.” 

“As long as the lower rank approaches you, there’s no problem,” Trip countered. Malcolm looked as if he was going to continue to argue and Trip was getting ready to drive his point home when Malcolm caught him off guard by smiling at him with open affection. Trip was flustered by how much the sight of that particular smile meant to him.

“I’ve heard I’m not very approachable,” Malcolm said dryly.

“Nah, I know you; you’re a big ole marshmallow,” Trip dismissed, delighted when he got a laugh out of his friend. 

“There you go, thinking of dessert again.”

“Well, you know what they say, the way to a man’s heart--”

“--is through his sternum.”

Trip groaned and tossed his pillow at Malcolm, who snatched it out of the air and threw it back, hitting Trip in the face. Malcolm reached over and turned off the light, a tactic to prevent Trip from retaliating. “Night, Trip.”

Trip lay in the darkness for a few moments, his mind turning over their conversation. “I'm glad you're not leaving us, but I wish you’d get what you want,” he finally blurted out.

“Yeah. Me too,” Malcolm answered quietly.

“‘Sides, who’s gonna bake me fairy cakes for my birthday this year?” Trip joked, trying to keep the lighthearted mood intact.

“Nice to know I’m wanted,” came the good natured sarcastic reply.

Trip chuckled at that. 

A few minutes later his amusement turned to panic when he realized that he was hopelessly infatuated with Malcolm.


End file.
